


Back to Basics

by Suspicious_Popsicle



Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: Gen, Post Game, Post canon, blanket scenario
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-27
Updated: 2013-08-27
Packaged: 2017-12-24 20:15:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/944176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suspicious_Popsicle/pseuds/Suspicious_Popsicle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Blade Drifts of Zopheir were many things—cold, desolate, and dangerous being the most important to Flynn just at that moment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Back to Basics

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is what happens when I write Yuri and Flynn into what is basically a blanket scenario. Go figure. 9_9
> 
> Disclaimer: The characters and settings in this story are from Tales of Vesperia and do not belong to me.

The Blade Drifts of Zopheir were many things—cold, desolate, and dangerous being the most important to Flynn just at that moment. Snow crunched under his boots as he marched and the tails of his cape flapped before him, snapping on the gusts of freezing wind that pushed him on. He could hear Yuri’s footsteps behind him, not quite in time with his own and infuriating.

“I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t walk so close to me.” Flynn forced the words out through gritted teeth.

“Then pick up the pace a bit.”

“I am going as fast as I can.”

“All that armor slowing you down?”

“No, but the barely healed gash on my side is.”

“Hey, I didn’t make you jump out in front of that thing.”

“ _You’re_ the one who lost all of my supplies, _including_ the gels I’d brought!”

“I gave you mine!”

“I can’t just take them all! What if we need one later?”

“You need them now!”

“ _Now_ , I’m all right enough to walk. _Later_ , you might not be if you don’t _back off_!”

Behind him, the crunching of Yuri’s boots stopped and, for a few peaceful, anger-heated seconds, the only footsteps Flynn heard were his own. Then—scrnch, scrnch, scrnch—Yuri was catching up to him, moving in so close that they ought to have been sharing warmth between them had the wind across the Drifts not been so intent on stealing it away.

“You’re acting like a baby.”

“I’m acting like someone stupid enough to accompany his reckless best friend out onto the Blade Drifts of Zopheir for no good reason. How did I let you talk me into this?”

Yuri grinned, his hair streaming out in front of him despite being wet with melted snow, and Flynn sighed. Yuri hadn’t even _tried_ to talk him into it. That was the problem. If he had, they’d have surely gotten into an argument, and Flynn wouldn’t have been in the predicament he was at the moment. Yuri was a crafty bastard when he wanted to be, though, and ever since they had been kids, he’d been able to find ways to pique Flynn’s curiosity and get him to follow along like the tail on a kite. Usually, that landed them right into trouble.

\-------------

Two months back, Ioder had practically ordered Flynn to take a little bit of time off. It had been easy enough to see Estellise’s hand in the matter. She’d been after him for some time to take a break for his health. Left with little choice when presented with imperial orders, Flynn had agreed, though the Commandant couldn’t simply pick up and leave without giving proper notice to a whole host of people and setting some things in order. It had taken him a good three weeks to get everything ready, and with so much that needed to be done in an amount of time that felt much shorter than it actually was, it shouldn’t have come as any surprise that Yuri had gotten wind of what was going on.

The first morning of his forced vacation, Flynn had woken at dawn to find an envelope jammed into his window from the outside. The note inside read “Catch up to me” in Yuri’s messy scrawl, and the only clue as to his whereabouts had been two lines crossed to form a simple compass, the arrow of which pointed north.

At the time, Flynn had been happy to find the note. He hadn’t actually thought about what to do when he had no work to be done, and the empty days before him had stretched out dauntingly in those first few minutes after waking. Sodia had kicked him out of his office promptly at midnight, and he’d gone to bed soon after when pacing his quarters had proved to be a frustratingly unfulfilling way to pass the time. Obviously, Yuri had left the note at some point between when Flynn had fallen asleep and dawn. He had a short lead, and it wouldn’t take much to catch up to him. Certainly between the two of them, they could find a way to pass the days until Flynn could return to work.

So, Flynn had forced himself to take his time over breakfast and packing. Let Yuri get as much of a head start as he could. There had to be _some_ challenge, after all. Once he was ready to go, he bid Sodia a quick goodbye and set out, expecting to catch up to Yuri within the day.

He’d been wrong. Yuri outpaced him halfway across the continent. In every town and fledgling settlement he had gone through, Flynn had encountered signs of Yuri’s passing—teasing notes and new friends of his saying he’d only just left. It had been frustrating and amusing by turns, and Flynn had begun to wonder if he would be spending the entirety of his vacation chasing Yuri across Terca Lumireis.

When he had finally caught up, it was only because Yuri had wanted him to. On the very edge of the Blade Drifts of Zopheir, he had come across a tent and campfire and the familiar smell of Yuri’s cooking.

Yuri had been there to greet him, a grin on his face and a second plate waiting to be filled. They had eaten together and caught up as the sun set and stars filled the sky overhead. The conversation had taken them late into the night, and by the time they were ready to turn in, Flynn had been too tired to bother setting up his own small tent. With Yuri, though, that didn’t matter.

The next morning, they had gotten up, broken down Yuri’s tent and packed, and then Yuri had led them out onto the Blade Drifts. He was close-lipped about his reasons for going there, and Flynn had soon admitted defeat against that smirk of his and stopped asking.

A snowstorm had caught them that first day, picking up a few hours after noon and refusing to die down until well after dark. Yuri had insisted on pressing on through it, at first, but Flynn had managed to convince him to set up camp sometime around sunset when the loss of the sun had caused the temperature to plummet. Blinded by the storm and shivering, they had somehow managed to get a tent set up and they’d curled up inside, back-to-back, each wrapped up tightly in his own blanket. The growling of their stomachs rivaled the roar of the winds, but without being able to build a campfire, there was little that Yuri could make for them. They made do with travelers’ bread while the cold and their hunger chased away sleep and shortened their tempers.

Yuri had been quiet the next morning, bleary-eyed and tousle-haired. He’d never been good with cold mornings, and having to dig the tent out of the snow bank heaped up over it by the storm hadn’t helped matters. They’d snapped at each other until resuming their trek across the snow and ice had claimed their focus. Flynn’s insistence on learning what they were doing there had grown more pointed but, although his smirk had disappeared, Yuri continued to respond to that line of inquiry with silence.

Halfway through the morning, they had been attacked. A school of teethees took them by surprise and the cold had set in deep, but they still managed to turn things around. Over the course of the fight, Flynn had noticed that Yuri still hadn’t gotten over his habit of running off on his own. That time, however, he hadn’t had Repede to watch his back. He had let himself get cornered. As he locked blades with one of the teethees, two more came at him from behind. Flynn had barely made it in time to keep them from hacking into Yuri. He parried a strike from one, but was too slow to get his shield up to entirely block the other’s attack. Pain, barely numbed by adrenaline and the lingering cold, had lanced through his back and side as the sharpened hook of the monster’s anchor found purchase in his flesh. He had practically been able to feel the moment that Yuri’s attention zeroed in on him, the moment that Yuri began taking the fight seriously.

Suddenly, the teethee that Yuri had been fending off was no longer in any shape to be attacking. Flynn had caught the flash of the Second Star as it whipped around to bite into the monster that had blood on its weapon. As the creature fell, Yuri and Flynn had closed ranks against the school that had been tightening in around them.

Although he’d never had the discipline to learn magic in its own right, Yuri still had some skill with artes, and he had charged forward to jam his sword into the ice and call forth a Destruction Field. Fire had raced across the snow, out of place in the frigid environs of the Drifts. It had chased the teethees back, burning and dealing out damage to the ones too slow to get away. Yuri had flung an apple gel at Flynn and chased after them. Determined not to let them get away to regroup, Flynn had swallowed the gel without a thought, ignoring the healing tingle and lingering pain as he had followed Yuri back into the fight. Once the two of them were actually working together, it hadn’t taken much time to put an end to things. They had stood still for several long moments afterward, breathless and riding high on adrenaline. Yuri had been the first to relax, his ferocity carried away on the wind and replaced with a grin and a shaky laugh as he turned to Flynn.

“You okay?”

“Mostly. I’ll need another…” Turning to where they’d let their packs fall when the attack had started, Flynn had noticed that his things were nowhere in sight. “…gel. Did they take my bag?”

“Huh?” Yuri had looked up from where he’d been dusting snow off his sheath.

“My things are missing. I left them right here.”

As he had gotten closer, he’d noticed that his footing had begun to feel unsteady. Near where he’d tossed his pack, a chunk of ice and snow crumbled away before his eyes, and fell with a splash. They hadn’t been standing on solid rock, not completely, anyway, and there were cracks in the ice, weakening it and causing pieces to break free and fall into the freezing water. The cracks radiated outward, and Flynn had been able to track them right to the spot where Yuri had performed his Destruction Field. When he’d looked back, he’d seen Yuri picking up his supplies—the only supplies that had been left between them.

“Come on, Flynn. Get your stuff and let’s go.”

\---------------

That had been an hour ago. After the accusations and the argument and the fight, Flynn had turned back toward home and Yuri had followed. There had been silence between them until the crunch of Yuri’s boots in the snow had worn away the last of Flynn’s patience.

“Hey.” The sound of Yuri’s footsteps halted once more, and he waited until he was sure he had Flynn’s full attention before continuing. “There’s another storm coming. We need to pitch the tent.”

“ _You_ need to pitch _your_ tent.”

“Knock it off! You’re not going to sit out here and freeze on principle, are you? Give me a hand. It’ll be hard enough already in this wind.”

With a sigh, Flynn looked around. There was a small cliff a little more than twice their height rising from the snow only a little ways distant. It wasn’t much, but it ought to provide some additional shelter.

“All right, but let’s get set up over there.”

They got the tent pitched and crawled inside. What had been a cozy fit that night outside the Blade Drifts was now cramped. Even with Yuri right behind him, Flynn shivered violently from the cold as he pulled off his armor. His other layers followed, uncomfortable but necessary in order for him to examine his wound. The apple gel may have sped the healing, but it hadn’t completed it. The jagged cut was ugly, barely scabbed over, but at least not bleeding. He probed it with careful fingertips, wincing and straining to see the whole of it as it wrapped around his side. Slowly, he became aware of the quiet within the tent, of Yuri’s attention focusing solely on him.

“You okay?”

His tone was hushed, the concern no longer swamped by the heady rush of victory after a fight. It didn’t go far toward mollifying Flynn’s temper. What good did regret do if Yuri refused to learn from his mistakes and begin thinking before acting?

“Fine.”

He tried to ignore the sounds and movement of Yuri fidgeting and settling in behind him but, without warning, a blanket was thrown over him and pulled tight around his neck like a cape worn backward. He struggled momentarily until he felt Yuri’s back, bare and clammy, press up against his, sending a shudder right through him. The blanket loosened a little, though it was still held close, the ends pulled around in front of Yuri.

They only had the one blanket between them, and needed to share what warmth they could. Still, when Yuri leaned hard against him, Flynn pushed back harder. They kept up like that for a few minutes, skin warming bit by bit from the friction and the scuffle. Eventually, Flynn reclined so far back that he must have pressed Yuri’s face down between his knees. Though he put up a token protest, Yuri obviously wasn’t really trying to push him off. Instead, he grew still, letting Flynn lean against him as the storm outside their tent did its best to suck away what little warmth they’d created.

Gradually, Flynn relaxed, and both of them resumed a more normal sitting position. There was something familiar in it, in leaning on Yuri, in being support for each other that transcended the literal situation they had found themselves in.

“We’ve had winters like this before,” Flynn murmured.

There was one in particular he was remembering. It had been back when all they’d had between them had been the clothes on their backs and a ratty old oilcloth stolen from the warehouse district. It had been cold that winter, colder in Flynn’s memory than the winds of the Blade Drifts that howled right outside their tent. He could remember how the wind in Zaphias had blown right through the chinks and gaps in the creaky old attic he and Yuri had taken refuge in. That drafty attic had been their home for the better part of a week until they’d been found and chased away. Flynn remembered nights spent crushed together between splintery crates, both of them trying their hardest to keep still and quiet despite being wracked with shivers and closer to starving than they had ever been. They’d survived because they’d had each other, because no matter what they might argue or fight about, at the first sign of trouble, any anger between them was immediately forgotten, and they would be side-by-side in a show of support, encouragement, and protection, without question or hesitation. Plenty of things had changed between them over the years, but not that. Never that.

Wincing as the movement sent a radiating ache through his torso, Flynn shifted until he and Yuri were sitting side-by-side. He grabbed one end of the blanket and left the other in Yuri’s hands so that it remained clutched securely around them as he leaned over to rest his head on Yuri’s shoulder.

“My side hurts,” he mumbled, and Yuri’s soft laugh jostled him.

“I bet it does. What were you thinking, taking a hit like that?”

“Wasn’t thinking at all.” He felt Yuri’s head come to rest against his own.

“Your hair tickles.”

“Well, yours is cold.”

“Try frozen. It stuck straight out when I pulled it over my shoulder.”

“Just don’t drip on me if I nod off.”

“Shut up and go to sleep before I shove another gel down your throat.”

Smiling, he sagged against Yuri and let the sounds of breath and heartbeat lull him to sleep.

\------------

When Flynn woke, he was curled up alone in the tent. He sat up, clutching the blanket and its warmth close around himself before reluctantly sticking his head out of the tent to look for any sign of Yuri. The storm had stopped while he’d been sleeping, leaving clean-swept drifts of snow that glittered coldly. The scene spread out before his eyes, pristine except for where Yuri’s boot prints led off toward the point where their sheltering cliff began its rise over the landscape. Though his clothes were far cooler than the blanket, Flynn dressed quickly and left the tent behind. He followed the tracks, knowing exactly where they would lead. Sure enough, Yuri stood at the top of the rise, gazing out over the horizon. Flynn joined him there and stared.

The last rays of light from the setting sun reached out, grasping at the icy landscape and setting it alight in rich, warm hues. Cold, blue snow had been transformed, dyed with fiery oranges and pinks, and the shifting light danced and flared across countless crystals of ice. Twilight bled through in pools of purple shadow that defined the snowdrifts and mirrored the scattered clouds floating serenely above. Even the murky, frigid water caught and reflected the beauty of the heavens like the broken shards of a gigantic looking glass. It was the first time that Flynn had ever considered that the Blade Drifts could truly be beautiful, and he took it all in beside Yuri, wrapped in a silence like softly falling snow.

It was Yuri who eventually broke the quiet moment as the last rays of the sun disappeared below the horizon.

“We can head home now.” He started back down the slope, boots crunching in the undisturbed snow between their earlier tracks. Flynn caught up in a few steps.

“Was that why you brought me here? To see the sunset?”

Yuri glanced back over his shoulder just long enough to offer a smile.

“Don’t you think it was worth it?”


End file.
